Sweden 1520 CE

The setting is Sweden, around 1520 CE. Stone circles of menhirs are found all over Europe. In Sweden they were called Judge Circles. In a farm courtyard, a girl notches an arrow ...

Judge Circle

Sweden – about 1520The arrow thrummed through the air and smacked into the haybale. The girl watched for a while, standing with her feet plantedasunder, as white feathers drifted past. She pulled up anotherarrow from where it was stuck in the snow next to her boots,drew the string back steadily, keeping her left arm straight andstill, and a moment later the second arrow quivered right next tothe first. A white chicken feather settled on her hair and anothertouched her cheek. She brushed it away and turned.“See, Inge, I’m getting really good.”The young woman sitting on folded sacking on the stepsleading down from the kitchen, smiled.“You are, Eira, you are. Mind you don’t get too cold now.”Inge’s breath floated in the air. She rubbed her fingers togetherto keep the blood circulating. Plucking a chicken couldn’t be donewearing mittens, just as shooting an arrow couldn’t. Herfingerless gloves helped, but the cold seeped up from the frozenstones below her. She stood up, clutching the half-pluckedchicken to her pinafore and stamped her feet, before sitting downonce more. Feathers floated off in all directions and settled in therutted snow of the large courtyard.Charcoal, the children’s black cat, had emerged from thewarmth near the kitchen range and nuzzled her. She shoved itaway and it skittered down the steps before walking, tail erect,towards the nine-year-old archer.Eira landed another arrow close to the first two and walkedover to retrieve her shafts. The sound of hoof beats caused her tostop and stare across towards the archway at the far end of theyard. The wooden doors to the courtyard stood open. A man rodein, ducking slightly under the archway. His dappled grey horsewhinnied and skittered sideways a pace or two.“Stable-boy, ho,” he shouted, turning the horse to ride outtowards the front of the house.Inge stood-up when the gentleman arrived, for KalebPettersson was an important man, the biggest landowner in theseparts and someone known for his abrupt manner and shorttemper. The chicken bounced off her knees and landed on thethin snow and frozen mud of the courtyard.Ralf came out from the stables at the far side of the yard, witha pitchfork in his hand. “Did someone call?” He addressed Eira,who just shrugged and nodded towards Inge.The young woman retrieved the chicken, brushed it downand pointed to the gate.“Get on with you, Ralf, Mr Pettersson won’t brook no waitingnow,” said Eira.Ralf looked stricken and, dropping the pitchfork, loped acrossthe yard and disappeared under the archway. Inge grimacedslightly and yanked more feathers out of the increasinglydenuded bird.“The sooner you’re in the pot the better for us all,” she said tothe lifeless head that bobbed around on her knees, as a freezinggust of wind lifted the feathers up towards the leaden sky. Ingesurveyed the dull heaviness of the clouds and concluded moresnow was possible before the day was through. A thaw had comethree weeks back, and then a further freeze. “Will this winternever end?” she grumbled to the chicken.

The boy hung the two rabbits from a low branch of a twisted oldtree and made his way across the snow towards the dark-greystones, standing like huge sentinels in private conversation, eachtopped with a slight crusting of snow, like so many moody oldmen. The Judge Circle of tall stones had stood forever. Possiblybuilt by the frost giants, according to his mother, although shesmiled when she said so. No one really knew how the standingstones, arranged in a rough circle, had come to be at the base ofTorsberg, the hill rising at the far end of the clearing. The jaggedrocks of the hilltop could, in a certain light, look like a vasthammer smashed into the crest or, some said, a kneeling giant.Both their farmhouse, the bridge over the river and the smalltown two miles beyond could be seen from its peak. Down by theCircle, Håkan’s view was circumscribed by the forest of birchtrees that crept towards the stones but never reached them, heldback by some troll magic, he didn’t doubt.The snow had been disturbed around the stones. Someonehad ridden a horse there not long ago, for the tracks were fresh,as was the dung that hadn’t yet frozen solid. Whoever hadtrespassed had ridden completely around the Circle withoutentering it. The snow encircled by the stones themselves wasunblemished and glowed a dull white, reflective of the ash greysky above.Håkan pulled his gloves tight and carefully gripped one of thetallest of the stones, much taller than the height of a tall man, butone that he could climb. His felt boots were not designed forrock-climbing and he eased them against the fissures to ensure agood grip. He didn’t fancy falling. Gaining the top he stood,flexing his knees and swaying slightly. The air, so still until a fewmoments earlier, now had a slight breeze. His breath driftedaway in front of him; the highest branches of the birches wavedto each other slowly; a clump of snow tumbled from a branchnearby. Otherwise the silence held.

This was where the boy had appeared, if boy he was. He’dappeared and just as quickly, disappeared.Håkan had been standing very still, watching a boar who’demerged from the trees on the far side of the clearing. It snortedaround but didn’t detect him, as the wind carried the pig’sboarish stink across to where Håkan clutched his bow, arrownotched and half drawn. The boar did see the strange boy as hewalked within the stone circle. It snorted and lowered its head.The boy, dressed in the oddest clothes Håkan had ever seen,looked at the boar and then towards him. He took another stepand promptly vanished. But not entirely, for his tracks remainedin the snow. When Håkan looked again the boar had also gonebut he could still be heard crashing through the undergrowth.Håkan surveyed the area carefully. No troll boy today, just thetracks from the horse and rider. He could now see where someman had dismounted for a while and relieved himself in thesnow. Håkan shook his head to clear both mysteries, andsurveyed the other ten stones. Each one would take a small armyto lift. He doubted their wagon would be sturdy enough to carrythe weight of the smallest, even if it could be pulled out of thefrozen ground. In fact, the stone he stood on would be longerthan the wagon, and that was only the bit he could see above theground.He checked the snow behind him. His bow and arrows leantagainst the next rock, well out of the way. He didn’t wish to landon those. He took a breath, feeling the chill burn across his teeth.He positioned his feet and extended his arms, as he had beentaught. Turning his face towards the clouds, that seemed but ahand’s breadth above Torsberg, he bent his knees, fell backwardsslowly and then jumped sharply. Keeping his body extended hemade a graceful arc, turning completely in the air and landing onhis feet, facing the tall stone on which he’d stood momentsbefore. His feet punched into the crisp snow. He wiggled hisboots to free them. Heart racing and grinning to himself, hecollected his bow and arrows and set off to pick up the rabbits.In half an hour it would be dark and he wanted to be home wellbefore then.

Inge had just completed pulling out the final feathers when thedoor to the kitchen burst open. She heard the cook say somethingand a man’s voice raised in anger. Pettersson swept out throughthe back door, ignoring Inge, and shouted for his horse. It tookRalf a few moments before he led out the dappled grey.“Bring it here, boy, and look sharp about it, I don’t have allday.”Pettersson stood on the small landing that extended from thekitchen door, the stairs descending to one side.“‘s Blood, mind, girl,” he said, forcing Inge to take a couple ofsteps down, while he swung his leg onto his waiting mount. Heturned the horse without a word of thanks to Ralf, and trottedtowards the archway. As he passed through, an arrow embeddeditself in the wooden doorpost. If he heard he made no sign.“That was very, very naughty,” said Inge to Eira, as the girlstrolled over to retrieve the arrow.“No, he was very, very rude,” said Eira, “and I’m a good shot.He was in no danger.”